


'Splosions

by jedusaur



Category: Bandom
Genre: Comics, Drawing, Fanboying, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedusaur/pseuds/jedusaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard is no stranger to awkwardness around people he admires. He was about as cool as a cucumber on fire when Jeff Smith caught him staring at Comic Con that one time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Splosions

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration and title from the comics artwork on [Dallon's deviantart account](http://djjazzyweekes.deviantart.com/gallery/). Thanks to [](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/profile)[**dear_monday**](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/) for the beta, and [](http://verbyna.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://verbyna.livejournal.com/)**verbyna** for encouragement and suggestions.
> 
> My canon research for this consisted entirely of asking V "hey, which European festivals did MCR and Panic both play?" and being a giant nerd. I have no idea whether Gerard and Dallon already knew each other, or whether they got real bathrooms at Leeds.

Gerard is no stranger to awkwardness around people he admires. He was about as cool as a cucumber on fire when Jeff Smith caught him staring at Comic Con that one time. He's hardly the King of Smooth, and he doesn't judge anyone else for failing to be smooth royalty.

Still, he was hoping that Panic! At The Disco's new lineup would be a little more chill. Brendon is exuberant, but he's exuberant with everyone, not just lead singers of famous bands. And Spencer has always been pretty calm. It was Ryan who could never figure out where to put his hands when Gerard was around. Gerard knows insecurity draped in false confidence when he sees it, and Ryan's inability to relax around Gerard tended to put him on edge. With Ryan gone, he thinks maybe he'll have more fun hanging out with Panic at Leeds.

He can tell there's not much likelihood of that the minute he lays eyes on the new bassist. The guy somehow manages to stare at Gerard while simultaneously completely avoiding eye contact. If there are any vowels in the sentence he mumbles when Brendon introduces him, Gerard can't identify them. It's worse than most of his experiences with fans. At least Ross could fake nonchalance, albeit not well.

Gerard smiles politely, even if Dallon is too busy blushing to notice. Such is the curse of celebrity.

***

The worst part about being in the public eye is how often Gerard is expected to care about stupid shit like what his hair is up to and whether his underwear is right-side-out. Underwear is not a complicated piece of equipment, okay, there is no magical crotch-freshening layer of fairy dust on one side. It doesn't _matter_ which way around it goes. He doesn't get why no one understands this.

"You have two choices," says Frank. "You can go fix your damn underpants, or you can wear pants that don't make them ride up like you get off on performing with a wedgie. One or the other, up to you."

Gerard glares, but heads for the bathroom. If he doesn't, Frank will probably pants him on stage or something. Asshole.

Dallon is washing his hands when Gerard comes in. He glances up, and Gerard can actually see his shoulders tighten. Gerard bites back a sigh and ducks into a stall, hoping Dallon will be gone by the time he finishes wrestling with his skin-tight clothes.

He isn't. He's leaning against the bank of sinks when Gerard comes out, looking like he's trying to work up the nerve to say something. Gerard nods at him, hoping the acknowledgement will make him come out with it already, but it's not until Gerard is halfway out the door that he finally blurts out, "Hey, this is kind of awkward, I know we're both supposed to be rock stars or whatever, but I was kind of hoping... um..."

"Autograph?" Gerard offers, trying to make it easier on the poor guy.

"No, actually... um, can I have a sketch?"

Gerard wasn't expecting that. "Sure. Of what?"

"Dr. Pogo's my favorite, but whatever you feel like would be fantastic," says Dallon eagerly. He pulls a folded piece of paper and a pen out of his pocket. Gerard takes them. The paper feels nice, much nicer than anything he would expect to find stuffed in a musician's jacket at a festival. He looks more closely at the pen, and discovers that it's a Pentel pocket brush pen.

"You carry fifteen-dollar pens around with you all the time?" he asks curiously.

Dallon squints one eye. It's kind of cute. "On tour, yeah. There's a lot of downtime."

Gerard nods. He wipes down the counter with a hand towel and lays down the paper, outlining the shape of the monkey character roughly. "You know Gabriel did the art, right? Not me."

"Of course!" says Dallon instantly, like he can't stand the thought of Gerard getting the impression that his Umbrella Academy knowledge could be so scant. "I've been really hoping you'll do something with your own art, though. I heard something about a Fabulous Killjoys comic?"

"Sorry, Becky Cloonan is illustrating that." Gerard finishes up the sketch and blows on it gently, then carefully tears off the blank half of the paper and gives it to Dallon. "Draw me a sketch too?"

Dallon looks terrified. "I don't really... I mean, why?"

It's because Gerard doesn't run into many musicians who also draw comics, and he's curious about whether Dallon is any good. He makes it easier than that. "Because I want one."

"I don't... I have to get going, it's almost, um..." Dallon checks his phone, presumably to find out what time it could conceivably be almost. Gerard grins and tucks the sketch into his pocket.

"Take all the time you need," he says. "I'm holding Pogo hostage until you cough something up."

***

After everyone is done making music for the day, there's a knock on MCR's bus. Dallon is standing outside, looking nervous as fuck. It's just Gerard and Ray on the bus at the moment, and Ray is holed up in his bunk with his laptop Skyping his wife, so Gerard takes Dallon to the back and shuts the door to give Ray as much privacy as he can.

Dallon silently holds out the torn half-sheet of paper. The sketch depicts Brian May as Isaac Newton, clutching a guitar and sitting under a tree with an apple falling toward his head. It's not bad at all, and he's clearly spent a lot of time on it, at least enough for it to be recognizable as Brian.

"Wow," says Gerard. "That's awesome. Thanks." He takes out the Mr. Pogo drawing and looks at it. "I feel bad giving you this now, it's just a quick and dirty little thing."

"I'm okay with quick and dirty," says Dallon. Gerard eyes him, surprised. Dallon flushes a little at the scrutiny. "I mean, it's fine. Unless you want to draw me something else. That would be fine too."

So that's how this is. Well, okay then. Dallon's cute enough, and hey, he can _draw._ That's almost enough in itself.

Gerard leans forward and reaches into Dallon's pocket, where he saw him put the pen earlier. It's still there. He takes it out and gently presses Dallon backward into the couch. Dallon goes easily, staring at Gerard, breathing deeply like he's concentrating on not stopping.

Gerard uncaps the pen. "Or," he says, "I could draw you something else quick and dirty." He slips his hand under Dallon's jacket and shifts it upward along with his shirt, exposing his stomach. Dallon's eyes are wide, but in an expectant way, not like he's overwhelmed. He knows what's going on.

Gerard starts by outlining Dallon's ribs, just the bottom few, then draws his internal organs. He has a lot of experience with zombies and related viscera, and he took anatomy at SVA, so he manages a pretty detailed depiction of Dallon's innards before Dallon loses his patience, grabs him by the hair, and kisses the shit out of him.

Gerard kisses back, keeping away from Dallon's body until the ink has had time to dry, then winding himself around his artwork and holding tight. Close up, it's clear that Dallon is older than his bandmates, probably not much younger than Gerard himself. It's strangely relieving to realize that, like age difference really matters when Gerard is essentially fucking a fan in the bus lounge.

Not fucking yet, but it isn't going to be long, at the rate Dallon is taking off both of their clothes. He's not huge, but he's definitely taller than Gerard, and a bit buffer too. When he rolls them onto the floor with him on top, Gerard feels comfortably enclosed by the warmth of his body. He lets Dallon kiss him and strip him, lets him wriggle down to blow Gerard, lets him pull off before Gerard comes to lick between his legs. He gets Gerard's inner thighs wet with spit and squirms back up to slip his cock between them, fucking Gerard's legs and lightly biting his nipple. Gerard squeezes gently, keeps the pressure and the rhythm steady, until Dallon spills a stain onto the bus carpet that isn't going to come out.

He flops back down to take Gerard into his mouth again, slow and messy, slipping his hand between Gerard's legs and rubbing his taint as he sucks. Gerard comes in his mouth without warning, and Dallon swallows without complaint.

Gerard barely makes it to his bunk before passing out, leaving the stain for someone else to deal with.

***

In the morning, Frank laughs and laughs at Gerard until he goes into the bus bathroom to look at the mirror and discovers a perfect, Pentel-brushed handlebar mustache.

He's pretty sure Dallon isn't intimidated by him anymore.


End file.
